In two weeks, Goodluck Jonathan will begin to dismantle the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) as we know it. If, as he has loudly proclaimed, his mission is service, he has no choice.
In two weeks, Goodluck Jonathan will begin to dismantle the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) as we know it. If, as he has loudly proclaimed, his mission is service, he has no choice.
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In Nigeria, some people now talk about “deepening” democracy, but this is a cliché that is wholly inaccurate. In Nigeria, firmness, not depth, is the concern. What we need is an Iroko tree that is firm because it has taken root, not a withering reed capable of breaking apart or keeling over on account of every little wind.
In Nigeria, the PDP has so far prevented democracy—and therefore good governance—from taking root because far too much of its internal “success” contradicts the public interest. If Jonathan cannot make the necessary changes to his party, therefore, he will give Nigeria another four years of “pretend” governance.
Is the PDP Nigeria’s most dominant party? If your focus is geographical presence or electoral victories by whatever means, your answer would have to be “Yes.” But not if you are measuring by an institutional sense of responsibility, the party can only be conceived as suffering from very low self-esteem.
That it has under-performed and underachieved explains why many of those who voted for Jonathan swear that they voted for him, not the party. This is an unusual political compliment that he cannot accept without accepting the corollary: that he must demonstrate he is different. If his promises and the expectations of those who gave him their ballots are to be realized, he will either have to distance himself from the party, or dismantle it. If he does not, or if he delays, the PDP is more than capable of dismantling Jonathan himself.
All of this depends on the simple presumption—or delusion— that Jonathan is different from, and superior to, the PDP. But since there can be no Promised Land on this side of the Red Sea, Jonathan must find a way through it. His is the challenge of vanquishing the chariots and charioteers of the enemies that have taken this nation captive.
Is Jonathan really different, or is he willing to fight? If he is not, the answer may be considerably worse than the question. In the first of these first essays last week, I used Murtala Muhammed International Airport and our aviation sector in general as a metaphor for governance that is so bad it betrays itself. I could have chosen the National Hospital in Abuja and the health sector because no Nigerian who can afford it goes to a public hospital. I could have chosen the University of Ibadan and the education sector: Nigerians who can afford it now send their children not just abroad, but to Ghana.
When Jonathan was prospecting for votes, he made a lot of promises in public, some of which will be featured in this column next week. Unless it was the politician’s oldest trick: to lie to the people in order to steal their votes, he must persuade his party to become as nationalistic as it is national, and as responsible as it is bombastic.
The obvious starting point is the rule of law. Every PDP president so far has sworn by the rule of law, but each has been profoundly dishonest about it. For Olusegun Obasanjo and Umaru Yar’Adua, the rule of law was a convenient mantra: it made them sound democratically mainstream and contemporary—and therefore appealed to the international community—but the ascendancy of impunity in Nigeria during their years is proof they were simply posturizing.
Let us remember that in the full view of the world, Obasanjo protected the likes of Lamidi Adedibu and Anthony Anenih as much as Yar’Adua would later James Ibori and Lucky Igbinedion. Whenever the national interest has come up against that of the party, the PDP has consistently campaigned for “party unity” and “resolved” the matter in the middle of the night in favour of the party. They call the party a “family.”
But to be true to the rule of law is to be ready to jeopardize old friendships as well as nurture new enemies. It is the failure of the Nigerian political elite, particularly within the PDP, to accept this burden that is responsible for our national tragedy. The party has enjoyed the power, but has consistently misinterpreted it as privilege.
This has yielded a situation where, in a country as systematically and persistently looted as ours, the champion offenders continue to thrive.
For every Chuba Okadigbo who has been impeached and every Bode George who has been sacrificed, hundreds of crooks have been having the time of their lives. Their names are on top of federal and state contract awards; they nominate candidates for top appointments; they enjoy top party and national honours. Recall that of all the scams of the past 12 years, including Halliburton, Wilbros, Siemens, the top suspects have seen no court rooms. Worse still they have metamorphosed into kingmakers, key campaign financiers and presidential confidantes.
It is no surprise that Nigeria is loathed abroad. While the PDP often brags about the number of states it controls, it cannot boast true flagship achievements. When you look at Edo State, which the PDP had eaten alive for over 10 years; it is astonishing that it is the same resources the PDP claimed did not exist that have been used to turn it around in two years. In many states in the North, PDP governors behave as though they owe nothing either to the law or to the people.
What about the war against poverty? Many of the people who voted for Jonathan last month expect him to save them from poverty. Regrettably, poverty has not really been accepted as a problem in the past 12 years. Among the Millennium Development Goals, it is listed as Number One, but in Nigeria, there is no concrete declaration of war let alone determination of the rules of engagement.
We all know that Jonathan’s predecessor, Mr. Umaru Yar’Adua, did not implement his Seven-Point Plan. Yar’Adua’s godfather, Obasanjo, spoke a lot about economic reform but resented the concept of poverty. The incoherence and lack of seriousness in Obasanjo’s economic policy was demonstrated by the fact that, although his well-planned National Economic Empowerment and Development Strategy (NEEDS) was based on a strong analysis of poverty in Nigeria, Obasanjo wanted a redefinition of the term he could be comfortable with.
We will now see if the man who wore no shoes to school thinks differently, how long it takes him to do so, and many weeks to the end of his tenure he will take to address it. But if he truly wants to go to work, he does not even have to start setting up time-consuming new committees. Obasanjo’s NEEDS is an excellent economic reform scheme, for instance, just as the Justice Uwais Report is an excellent electoral reform document. We have a surfeit of vineyards; the problem has always been the shortage of honest and diligent labourers willing to put in an honest day’s sweat.
What about corruption? There is abundant evidence that in the Obasanjo years, Nigeria earned close to $400 billion from the petroleum sector alone. Despite Obasanjo’s posturing about how he would cage corruption, however, these funds went into feeding that insatiable monster. During Jonathan’s visit to the United States in April 2010, he promised the Obama administration he would descend heavily and swiftly on corruption, yet he has done nothing significant since then.
The road ahead will be determined by whether Jonathan has the guts to name and shame corruption, or whether he will opt for glowing descriptions of its shape and colour, as Obasanjo did.
And can Jonathan set preachments aside in favour of personal example? Can he avoid cheap tricks, such as the paint store loved so much by his predecessors who preferred the counterfeit “Heart of Africa” and “Rebrand Nigeria” schemes to hard work? I do not mean to suggest that personal example is easy: In 2007, for instance, Jonathan was compelled only by vociferous Nigerians to declare his assets; he was most reluctant to do so.
Jonathan must then establish goals and high standards and make sure they are not taken hostage by institutional crooks or cheap excuses. It is sobering to think that General Abdulkareem Adisa, for instance, might still be alive had he, as a 1990s Minister for Works and Housing, labored to ensure good roads.
He died in England following a road crash in Kwara: potent proof that good governance is not only for the governed.
In Jonathan’s hands are now four years to make or mar. He can become another graduate of the PDP Academy of Corruption and Indifference, or he can soar as a giant into history. But he cannot hide.
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• NEXT WEEK: Non-Governing Governance (3 of 4): A Mountain Of Promises
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